


Hard Labour

by wendymr



Series: Busman's Holiday [2]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M, Retirement's not all it's cracked up to be...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:52:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1616714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Stroud CID has been in contact... They would like to borrow your services again."</i> Seven years after their first undercover visit to Gloucester, they're asked to go back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Labour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/gifts).



> An unconscionably long time ago, Paperscribe earned the right to prompt me for two fics as a result of identifying successfully two of my Yuletide entries. The first fic was written and posted by the beginning of February. The second is finally completed now, and I'm so sorry for the delay! Hope you like it, PS :)
> 
> Original prompt at the end, because spoilers, obviously ;)

Robbie flicks through the TV channels, ready to give up in disgust at the complete crap that passes for daytime telly these days. Bloody James Hathaway – if he hadn’t gone and started that research training course at the university, Robbie could’ve phoned him and suggested... oh, anything. A drink, a drive out to Banbury or Leamington for dinner, a walk in the country. 

Anything but sitting here going slowly brain-dead in front of pointless game shows or reality TV. Does anyone seriously care whether some over-made-up Londoner can find the perfect luxury flat for the ridiculously low amount she wants to pay? And as for the proper telly programs, with real actors, he watched all those series years ago – back in the seventies, some of them. Seriously – _Kojak? Minder_? 

When his phone rings, it’s a relief. Maybe it’s even James, to say he needs a break from the books and fancies a drink tonight. That’d be nice – it’s been, what, nearly four weeks since he’s seen the bloke? “Hello?”

“Robbie. Glad I caught you. It’s Jean Innocent. Would you by any chance be able to come down to the station?”

“Ma’am?” He hasn’t spoken to Innocent since the day after his retirement do, when he came into the nick to hand back his warrant card and all police property in his possession, and collect his final paperwork. Why would she be phoning him now, four months later, and why on earth would she need him at the station? “Is there a problem?”

“Not as such. I can’t explain on the phone, though. Are you available now?”

Innocent, or another interminable chat-show? No contest. “On my way, ma’am.” And if she objects to his ratty corduroys and old checked shirt, that’s her lookout.

* * *

He’s waved past by the desk sergeant, instead of being treated like the civilian he now is. But that’s not the biggest surprise. When he walks into Innocent’s outer office, there’s someone else already waiting.

James Hathaway, prospective research student at All Souls, who’s supposed to be in a lecture or seminar or something and hasn’t had time to have so much as a pint with Robbie in almost a month, yet is sitting in front of Robbie, looking as puzzled as Robbie is to be here.

“Robbie! I didn’t realise she’d called you in too. Have you any idea what this is about?”

“Not a clue – and even less now I see you’re here. Thought maybe I’d forgotten to sign something important before leaving.”

James shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe there’s a question about one of our cases?”

“Well, whatever it is, I hope you’ve got time for a pint after?”

Before James can answer, the door opens and Innocent appears. “Gentlemen – do come in.”

Robbie waves James ahead of him. It’s a strange feeling to be back in Innocent’s office – at once familiar and strange. “I’ll get straight to the point,” Innocent says as soon as Robbie’s shut the door. “First of all, does either of you have any commitments over, say, the next week that you can’t get out of?”

“Not me, ma’am.” Robbie shrugs; it’s not as if the allotment wouldn’t survive without him – and certainly daytime TV will cope just fine without his presence at the remote control. James, though, is another story.

So he’s completely taken aback to hear James say, “I don’t either, ma’am.”

 _What?_ What about his course? The reason why he’s not seen James in almost a month?

“Excellent.” Innocent gestures to the chairs arranged in front of her desk. “Please sit down and I’ll fill you in. And I will emphasise up front that, since neither of you is a serving police officer any more, you are completely at liberty to say no to what I’m about to ask.”

Robbie glances sideways at James as he lowers himself to the chair. It’s clear that his former bagman is every bit as bemused as he himself is, though James is wearing his most inscrutable expression. Right, then. So neither of them is going to ask.

“Stroud CID has been in contact.” Robbie’s eyes widen. It’s been six years or more since he and James went down to Gloucestershire to help in the investigation of incidents of violence against ramblers in the Cotswolds. “They would like to borrow your services again. I did explain that you’ve both left the force, but the DI on the case was most insistent that I ask you anyway. Apparently,” Innocent adds dryly, “you made a significant impression last time.”

He’s retired, he should protest – but protesting’s not uppermost in his mind. Instead, Robbie feels the adrenalin rising again, the way it always did when he got his teeth into a new case. He’s ready to ask questions: what’s the case; what role are they being asked to play; what their cover will be – but, abruptly, he stops himself. This isn’t only about him.

James is looking at him. “It’s up to you.” James will if Robbie wants, in other words. And, yes, he wants it. For the case itself, whatever it is – and to work with James again.

“We’ll do it, ma’am.”

* * *

Innocent sends them home to pack – “Enough for around two weeks, and all casual: jeans, T-shirts, that sort of thing” – and instructs them to be back in no more than an hour and a half.

“Want a lift?” Robbie asks James as they exit the building together. James mostly gets around on a bicycle these days; no point wasting money on a car, he’d told Robbie just after they left the Force, not when most of his travelling would be around the city and particularly to university buildings. 

James shakes his head. “My bike’s here.” Innocent must have phoned James first, if he had time to cycle here and still make it before Robbie. “But if you wouldn’t mind picking me up on your way back...?”

“Course. I’ll phone when I’m on me way.”

If Robbie’s not mistaken – and he’s very sure he’s not – James is just as keen on doing this as he is himself. He definitely caught a gleam of pleasure and anticipation in the bloke’s eyes before James jogged over to where he’d locked up his bike. He wouldn’t have expected that; he’d thought James was happy buried in his research. Still, a change is as good as a rest even for cleverclogs academics, isn’t it?

James is ready and waiting when Robbie pulls up outside the much smaller flat he’s now living in – only temporary, he’s insisted; he expects to be living in All Souls once he begins his MPhil – wearing jeans and what looks like an army-surplus jacket, and with a rucksack thrown over his shoulder.

“Sounds like they want us down there tonight.” James stretches out in the passenger seat. 

“As long as it’s not ramblers again. Don’t think I could take those hills a second time. It’s all right for you, but I’m not as young as I was.”

James laughs. “You’re as fit as I am, and you know it.” After a moment, he adds, “Laura doesn’t mind you going away like this?”

Robbie glances sharply at him, and then realises – of course, it’s been a month since he’s had a proper conversation with James. There’s no time to explain now, though; they’re almost at the nick. “It’s not an issue.”

James raises an eyebrow, expression curious, but says nothing. Knowing him, he’s putting two and two together and making... well, very likely four. Which would make things easier, wouldn’t it? No explanations necessary.

* * *

They’re taken into a conference room, where DI Kendrick of Stroud CID is already waiting for them. Six years earlier, Kendrick was the DS on the rambler investigation, and apparently is the senior officer who asked for them this time. 

The case involves smuggling – knock-off copies of electronic devices brought in from China and sold at markets across the West Midlands. No-one knew how the goods were getting into the country until recently, when a tip-off focused attention on a small transport and storage company located just outside Frampton on Severn, right next to the Gloucester and Sharpness Canal. Stroud CID’s guess is that the goods come in through the Bristol Channel, somehow missing detection by Customs and Excise, and then divert along the canal to the company’s premises.

“Where do we come in?” James asks.

“We’d like you to go undercover as warehouse workers,” Kendrick explains. The tipoff Stroud CID received was from someone who worked for the company briefly and got suspicious about what he was working with. The informant won’t give evidence, and there’s not enough for a search warrant. “But he did tell us that he was hired through a temp agency in Stroud, and that all the workers seem to come from there. He answered an ad the temping agency placed in the local paper. That same ad’s been placed every two or three months for three days at a time. We’ve been expecting to see it again any day now, and it just appeared again today. It’s a route in – but we can’t risk using local officers. That’s why we need you two on site as soon as humanly possible.”

“Fair enough, but what makes you think we’d be chosen? Whatever about James, I’m not exactly your ideal warehouse worker,” Robbie points out.

“Won’t be a problem. Because they only employ people for up to a week at a time, and then there’s nothing for a couple of months, it’s not all that easy to find willing workers. Our informant told us that the company’s not choosy – they’ll take people with bad employment histories, criminal records and so on. Probably assuming they’ll be so grateful for a few days’ pay that they’ll keep their mouths shut.”

Their cover’s all been worked out: same identities as last time: uncle and nephew, and they both have a set of identity documents and a CV – with references who will confirm the cover stories. Robbie’s been recently laid off after thirty years in the Tyneside shipyards – so used to manual labour – and James has a history of petty crime over the past four years or so, including a recent six-month prison sentence. As James’s parents are no longer around, Robbie has decided to take his nephew in hand and get him back on the straight and narrow.

“Sounds reasonable, but why Stroud?” Robbie asks; it’s the obvious question a recruiter will ask.

“You want to get your nephew away from some bad influences in his life, and the two of you were in the area a few years ago and liked it – it’s as good a reason as any,” Kendrick says.

Robbie glances at James; he nods, clearly okay with the plan. “All right. So what’s next?”

Kendrick slides a piece of paper across the table. “This is the address of a boarding-house in Stroud. Not particularly salubrious, but it’s clean, and it’s the sort of place a couple of guys like you would stay while looking for work. You’re sharing a room, but I wouldn’t advise you to discuss the case there – you’re likely to be overheard.” He throws a set of keys to James. “We have a car for you, as well. For obvious reasons, you shouldn’t bring your own.” Because, apart from the possibility of someone managing to do a number-plate search, Robbie Lewis, former detective inspector, would own a much nicer car than Robbie Lowe, ex-dockyard worker.

They’re given Kendrick’s contact number, but advised to memorise it rather than keep it written anywhere it could be found, and finally, they’re issued with cheap mobiles. The phones have a dual purpose; they also have cameras and voice recorders. “But don’t do anything that’s going to put yourselves at risk,” Innocent cautions. “And please remember that you’re civilians now, both of you. Don’t take the law into your own hands.”

Robbie nods. “Get enough evidence for you to get a search warrant. No problem.”

* * *

The briefing over, they’re under instructions to drive to Stroud immediately so that they can apply for work at the temping agency first thing in the morning. As they exit the station, Robbie’s aware of curious gazes following them, though neither of them acknowledges the looks beyond an occasional nod. 

Outside, they’re crossing the car park with their bags when a voice hails Robbie. “Sir! And Sarge!” Robbie stops, seeing James pause also out of his peripheral vision. It’s PC Lockhart – Julie – and Gurdip Sohal’s with her. Robbie’s almost certain that the two of them had been holding hands, but had hurriedly let go of each other.

“Julie, Gurdip – good to see you,” James says, extending his hand. “And it’s not Sarge any more. James will do.”

Julie shrugs cheekily. “I dunno, maybe if I keep calling you Sarge you’ll come back.” She turns to Robbie. “And you, sir. It’s not the same without you both.”

“Suppose it’s nice to know someone’s noticed we’ve gone,” Robbie comments to James, then turns back to Julie. “Sorry. Busy life, bein’ retired. Allotments to dig, dinghies to row... you know how it is.”

“So busy you had time to come to the nick for a visit,” Gurdip comments with a grin. “It is good to see you both. Maybe you’d have time for a drink?”

“Can’t this evening,” James says immediately. “I have somewhere I need to be – and you do too, don’t you, sir?” he adds, with a quick glance at Robbie.

Robbie shakes his head in mock exasperation. “Where’s your car?”

James glances around, obviously looking for the ten-year-old grey Renault Laguna they’d been told was waiting for them. It does look a little the worse for wear, when they go to it: the paint’s chipped in a few places, and a wing’s dented. However, Kendrick assured them that the engine’s sound. It just wouldn’t do for Robbie Lowe, with the cover invented for him, to have a car that’s in perfect condition.

James raises an eyebrow as they drive out of the car park. “Did you notice...?”

“Those two? Yep.”

“Wonder how long it’s been going on.” James sounds pleased for the two junior officers; but then, he remembers that the bloke had always liked working with the two of them.

Robbie smirks; he’d always enjoyed being one up on his smartarse bagman. “Gurdip’s fancied her for ages. Thought he’d never get his act together, but clearly he has – or she made the first move.”

James looks taken aback – obviously, he’d never noticed Gurdip’s interest – but then he smiles. They’re silent for a while as Robbie navigates his way to the Banbury Road en route to the A40. Then, abruptly, James speaks. “Innocent should never have asked you to do this. Working in a warehouse... you could do some serious damage to your back. I should go in alone.”

He’d thought about his back, yes. But now that James is suggesting leaving him out – no chance. “I’ll be fine.” His tone tells James not to argue.

Not that James takes any notice. “Robbie, you know what you were like the last time you pulled a muscle in your back, and that was just from twenty minutes of squash. Lifting heavy boxes over and over for days–” 

“I’ll just make you do all the lifting, won’t I?” He holds up a hand as James is about to object again. “You’re not going in on your own, an’ that’s final.”

James frowns disapprovingly. “I doubt Laura would agree.”

Bugger. He really has to tell James. But then, it’s not his fault that he hasn’t before now. James hasn’t been around to tell. “She probably wouldn’t, but it’s not her place to object.” Confusion covers James’s face. “We’re not together any more.” 

Now the confusion’s replaced by shock. “What? Since when? And why didn’t you tell–”

“Weren’t around to tell, were you?” James grimaces. “Suppose it’s been coming for a month or so, but we finally called it off a couple of weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry.” There’s genuine regret in James’s voice. “I thought the two of you seemed happy, and I was glad you weren’t...” He trails off, but Robbie can guess. _Alone_ , maybe -  
or perhaps _still grieving?_. 

He shrugs. “It’s not that we weren’t happy. But it wasn’t right, not for either of us. Then she met someone else, and... well. I’m happy for her.” 

“But you...” James almost sounds indignant on Robbie’s behalf. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, man, stop it. Laura owed me nothing. We’ve been mates for years, and that won’t change. We just weren’t meant to be lovers, an’ once the novelty wore off we both realised it. Now, we’ve only got about an hour and a half on the road, so let’s go over our covers until we’ve got them down pat.”

* * *

Dusk is setting in as they hit the outskirts of Stroud. The GPS on James’s phone guides them to the boarding-house, which looks every bit as unprepossessing as Kendrick had led them to expect. 

“Hmm. Hope it’s clean, at least,” James comments as Robbie looks for parking. 

Robbie grins. “Just warn me if you start scratching.”

James gives him an alarmed look, then shakes his head. “Git.”

“Oh, there’s respect for you. I give you the freedom of me name, an’ now you feel free to call me anything you like.”

James arches an eyebrow. “I’ll go back to calling you _sir_ if you wish, but doing it here could create the wrong impression entirely.” The slight upwards incline of his lips rather spoils the prim impression he was trying to create, however.

“Oi, you. Come on, let’s get inside.”

They’ve decided on a double room; it’s in character for their cover, as the rent is cheaper than two singles, but also it allows them privacy to discuss the investigation if necessary, and also just to be themselves, rather than their undercover characters, for a few hours every day.

Their room is small, with two single beds and a tiny ensuite. It’ll do; it’s not as if they’ll be spending much time here. They dump their stuff and head out again in search of food. Something cheap, Robbie suggests – maybe fish and chips. It’ll be in character for their cover. If it’s a takeaway, too, not only will it be cheaper still but it’ll give them a reason to stroll around the town and get their bearings, including finding their way to the temp agency.

They spend a couple of hours walking around, and return to the boarding-house around ten. Once in their shared room, all they do is read. Robbie can’t help feeling disappointed; he’s not seen James for so long and he’d like to have a proper chat. But they’re undercover and so can’t take the risk. The walls in this place are paper-thin.

Oh, well, they’ll have time after the case is over, as long as James stops avoiding him.

* * *

They’re waiting outside the agency when it opens, their excuse of course being that they’re desperate for work. The agent skims their CVs, then – as expected – asks about the gaps on James’s, and why they’ve come to Stroud. 

“Just got out, haven’t I?” James replies, tone nicely between belligerent and frustrated. “An’ no-one will give me a job because of it.”

“Nothing in Tyneside for a bloke my age,” Robbie adds. “Came south, then found out Jim here – he’s me nephew – needs a fresh start, so we headed west. Got family in Cornwall, y’see. Stopped here ‘cause we were almost out of petrol last night. All we need ’s a job for a week or so, just to give us some cash to get the rest of the way.”

It’s not quite the same story as Kendrick suggested, but it had seemed more convincing to the two of them as they’d discussed it in the car yesterday.

The woman looks doubtful, and Robbie’s about to marshal arguments to stop her sending them away. She drums her fingers on the desk, then reaches under the counter. “This might work. I’ll have to call to see if they’re still hiring. It’d be heavy work – loading and unloading boxes, that sort of thing. Probably three or four days.”

“That’d be grand,” Robbie says. “Got no problem with heavy work, me. And I know he doesn’t look it, but the lad here’s got muscles on him, all right.”

They’re told to wait, and she picks up a phone. Five minutes later, she beckons them over and passes them a card with an address. “If you can get yourselves there straight away, you’ve got a job for the next few days. All right?”

Robbie thanks her effusively, while James grunts something that could have been appreciation, and they leave.

* * *

Their destination is an unprepossessing building close to the river. There’s a boat moored nearby, and a lot of activity with people loading boxes onto mobile pallets and then driving them into the building. They present themselves at a door, and after a couple of straightforward questions are directed to join the crew unloading the pallets inside.

The warehouse is about half-empty, with boxes stacked almost to ceiling-height furthest away from the overhead door. A man wearing a badge with the company name on it directs the two of them to start taking boxes from the mobile pallet and move them to an empty pallet nearby. From there, it’s clear that a forklift will stack the full pallets on top of each other. 

It’s exhausting work, nearly back-breaking. Robbie’d thought he was fit for his age, but this is nothing like anything he’s ever done before. James seems to be coping, and is definitely moving faster than Robbie, but even he stops every once in a while to stretch out his back and drag the back of his hand across his forehead. 

When lunchtime comes, he looks at Robbie and jerks his head outside, cigarettes already in his hand. Cover, of course; he’d noticed yesterday that James hadn’t smoked at all, and the bloke had explained he’d given up three weeks ago. Robbie just hopes that this isn’t going to set him back.

“You all right?” James says once they’re standing together a short distance from the building. “And don’t lie. I know your back’s giving you trouble.”

Robbie shrugs. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

James pretends to take a drag of his cigarette. “Yeah, right. I still think you should let me do this alone.” Robbie glares at him, and James shakes his head in obvious frustration. “Did you see anything worth nicking?” James asks then, using the code they’d agreed on.

“Nowt. Everything’s sealed up. Thought maybe I’d accidentally drop a box later, see if that helps.”

James nods. “We’ve got half an hour. Why don’t you lie down on the grass and stretch out your back? I’ll get the sandwiches.” They’d stopped at a supermarket on the way over. 

“Thanks, man.” He’s not such a stubborn git that he’ll ignore that kind of offer. Robbie lowers himself carefully to the ground and lies down, eyes closed – but ears wide open, just in case he hears anything of interest.

* * *

They learn nothing useful that day. And Robbie’s knackered and aching as they drive back to Stroud. James is driving, but several times glances over at Robbie, his expression growing more and more concerned as Robbie shifts in the uncomfortable passenger seat. 

“You’re spending at least fifteen minutes in the shower when we get back,” James announces, worry lacing his tone. “I’ll go out and get us pizza or something, so you can spend the evening resting.”

He’s in too much bloody pain to argue. James is right. If he doesn’t take it easy tonight and give his back a chance to recover, he’ll be no use to anyone tomorrow.

James offers his arm as they walk up to their room, and then, a little awkwardly, asks if Robbie needs any help getting into the shower. He really doesn’t, though he’s tempted to say yes just to see the bloke blush. James lets himself out, leaving Robbie to it.

He’s out of the shower and sitting on his bed, a towel around his waist, when the door opens again and James enters. “Oh, good, you’re not dressed.”

“Eh?” He raises an eyebrow. 

James holds up a Superdrug bag. “Got some ointment for you. And some double-strength ibuprofen, for tonight and tomorrow.” He glances at the bed, and his lips curve downwards. “I was tempted to buy an orthopaedic pad to go on top of your mattress, but if I’d been seen it wouldn’t have done our cover much good,” he adds in a low voice. “Had to be careful buying these, as it was.”

Robbie nods. “Thanks. Kind of you.”

James waves Robbie’s appreciation away; typical of the bloke, he’s terrible at accepting compliments and thanks. Either pretends it’s not important or turns it into a joke against himself. 

“I didn’t get the pizza yet – I thought it was more important to bring this back for you while you were still warm from the shower. I’ll go out again in a while, when we’re ready to eat. James gets the tube of ointment out. “Would you mind lying face-down on the bed?” 

It takes quite a bit of effort, and several stabs of pain, to achieve that, and even once he’s lying down he can’t get comfortable. James gets the pillow from his own bed and uses it underneath Robbie’s stomach so that he can rest his head on the other one. Then, with a warning that the cream will be cold, he starts to spread it around, starting with Robbie’s lower back and then moving up his spine to cover his neck and shoulders as well.

“Feels good,” Robbie mumbles.

“It’s the sort that feels warm when you apply it, yes,” James answers. 

“Don’t mean that. You rubbing it on me – that feels good. Like you’re massaging.”

“Oh.” He sounds just a little self-conscious. “Erm... I do actually know how to give a back massage. Learned when I was rowing. So if you’d like...”

“God, yeah.” He tries to twist his head to look at James, but it hurts, so he lies down again. 

“Okay. But I warn you, to do it properly I’m going to need to get up on the bed beside you. Actually, I’ll need to straddle you, if that’s okay. And it’ll be more comfortable for you if I take my jeans off to do that.”

Trust the bloke to get all anxious about what Robbie’d mind. As if they’ve not been best mates for years, and seen each other near-naked a number of times. “Whatever.”

Despite James’s warning, it does feel strange a couple of minutes later when the bloke climbs onto the bed and straddles Robbie’s upper thighs; but seconds later all he’s aware of is the pressure on his lower back as James kneads and rubs in all the right places. There’s pain at first, but it’s the right sort of pain, and gradually the stabbing and aching resolves into the ability to move again if he wants. 

James’s thighs and backside brush against him again as the man’s hands move up his spine, and again that’s... different. But not unpleasant. Quite apart from the blessedly healing massage, it’s nice to be that close to someone else again. It’s been a while. Yes, there was Laura, but although they’d enjoyed cuddling on the sofa she hadn’t been that into cuddling in bed. Slept better in her own space, she’d said.

“How does that feel?” James asks as he continues to work out knots in Robbie’s neck. “I can feel the tension loosening. Enough?”

“No, keep going,” he says instantly, then quickly adds, realising he’s being a bit demanding, “If you don’t mind. Don’t want to wear you out.”

“It’s fine,” James says. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

His technique changes then; instead of pressing and kneading in the knotted areas, James’s hands sweep over wide areas of Robbie’s back and shoulders, rubbing and soothing. It’s lovely; very relaxing. Really, he could just go to sleep now...

His stomach rumbles loudly.

James laughs and immediately climbs off Robbie’s back and onto the floor. “I was in danger of forgetting the imperative never to come between you and your food! I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Robbie pushes himself into a sitting position, and, Christ, his back feels so much better. James has his back to him, and he’s pulling jeans back on. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to...“ _Break the mood_ , he almost says, but stops himself in time. James touching him, it wasn’t anything like that. It was therapeutic, James doing him a favour. “Thanks, man. It really helped. Feeling a lot better.”

James, now fully dressed again, turns and smiles warmly. “I’m glad. I hate to see you in pain, but at least there’s something I can do to help.”

James has always hated seeing him in pain, Robbie remembers after his friend has left in search of food. Right from the beginning, in his grief over Val and all the reminders, small and large, that brought the pain back; James was always empathetic, worried, and – once he knew Robbie would let him be – protective. The times when he was in physical pain, too: over his back, and that toothache, and when he’d been injured on the job. And, now that he thinks about it, the previous day when he’d told James he and Laura had split up, James was very worried that he might have been hurt by it.

He’s a good bloke, is James. Robbie’s been lucky to have him by his side all these years. Once this undercover job is over, he’ll make a point of ensuring that James’s presence in his life continues, one way or another.

* * *

Robbie sleeps surprisingly well, despite the uncomfortable bed and the state of his back when they’d left the warehouse. It helped that, just before they went to bed, James had given him another shoulder and neck rub, this time kneeling behind him on the bed.

All the same, he’s not looking forward to another day of bending to pick up, and then carrying, heavy boxes, even with access to the tablets James bought him. “Hope we get the evidence we need today,” he comments as they drive to the warehouse.

“Maybe you do need to drop a box,” James says, reminding him about his only half-serious suggestion of yesterday. He hadn’t done it, because there was no guarantee it would have worked, and he didn’t want to get sacked without the evidence they’d need. 

He’d asked other workers what was in the boxes, to find out the company’s cover story, and was told that they contained imported metal parts. Quite clever, really: explained the weight as well as the strict instructions to be careful: no dropping, make sure all boxes were right side up, and so on – and also ensured that none of the workers would be tempted to a bit of petty pilferage.

It’s another long and painful day, also with no results. By evening, the boat is empty and the warehouse is fully stacked. Tomorrow, they’re told, the job is to load the boxes onto a couple of lorries which will be taking the items on to their destination. “I’m half-tempted to come back after dark an’ break in,” Robbie grumbles on the way back to Stroud.

“Kendrick told us the place is guarded overnight,” James points out, and Robbie did know that. He’s just tired, achy and frustrated. James gives him a sympathetic smile. “I’ll massage your back again if you need it.”

“Please,” he almost groans.

In their shared room, Robbie’s about to head for the shower, but James stalls him. “Mind if I shower first? I felt horribly grubby yesterday while I was bending over you. I’m surprised you didn’t...” He wrinkles his nose.

Robbie grins. “Didn’t notice, an’ even if I had thought you were a bit ripe I doubt I’d’ve cared, state I was in. But go on with you.”

James is out again ten minutes later, dressed in a T-shirt and soft cotton shorts. By the time Robbie emerges, again with a towel around his waist, James is on the bed with the ointment beside him. 

Just like yesterday, to begin with James focuses on working out the knots and painful joints, and then when he’s done that he switches to the wider sweeps of shoulders, neck, down Robbie’s spine and across his lower back. “Christ, if you change your mind about becomin’ an academic, you could make a career out of this, man.”

James’s amused snort at that makes him smile. “I’d make a terrible masseur. Too fussy about whose body I’m willing to...” He can hear the wicked smile as James finishes. “...feel up.”

Robbie laughs. “Judging by this, you can feel me up any time you want.”

“Oh, how you tease,” James says, the cheeky sod. “And only a few weeks ago you were saying the same to someone else.”

“Oi. I’ll have you know that, while Laura’s knowledge of anatomy might be better than yours, massage isn’t her strong suit.”

“I’m glad I can make up for the lack, in that case.” James makes one more broad sweep of Robbie’s back, then exhales long and hard. “I think that’s as much as I can manage this evening. Want me to go out in search of food?”

“Nah, let’s go together, but not yet. Wouldn’t mind lying here for a bit first, just relax an’ let the good you’ve done sink in. Sounds like you could do with a bit of a rest an’ all.”

James swings his body to Robbie’s side, and again Robbie marvels at the lad’s tactful care, that he was able to straddle Robbie without actually sitting on his hips. Not that he’d have minded if James had, and no doubt that’s part of why the bloke’s tired. He catches hold of James’s arm as the lad’s about to slide off the bed, and James lets himself be tugged down to lie beside Robbie, their faces inches apart.

“Could sleep like this,” Robbie says after a moment. “Feels nice.”

“Have to add that to my CV,” James says, lips twitching. “Hands with the ability to turn grown men to jelly.”

“You need a reference, just let me know.” Without conscious thought, Robbie reaches out and lays his hand on James’s upper arm, stroking down to the wrist and then gently rubbing back and forth.

James goes very still, and then after a moment rolls over and off the bed. “I’m getting hungry. Ready to go?”

Oh. Right, yeah, that was a bit inappropriate, wasn’t it? He wasn’t thinking. Ah, well, best ignored. “Course. Give me a minute to get dressed.” He stands, grabs his clothes and disappears into the bathroom. By the time he comes out, it’s as if nothing happened.

* * *

The following morning, it’s James who’s frustrated and irritable in the car. “I’m not sure how many more days of this I can take,” he growls at last, after several snappish replies to Robbie’s conversational overtures.

“Not likely to be more than another two anyway, I’d think,” Robbie says. “Loading the lorries today and tomorrow – unless another boat’s due, an’ no-one’s mentioned that possibility.”

“True.” James exhales loudly. “Well, we’d better do what we can to get Kendrick’s evidence. I don’t fancy being sent back in another few months, do you?” He drums his hands on the steering-wheel. “Though I still don’t understand why he couldn’t have sent a team in based on the information provided by the other bloke who worked there.”

“Couldn’t get a warrant, apparently, because the bloke wouldn’t make a formal statement.” Robbie had wondered the same, and had hung back to ask Kendrick before they’d left the nick. He’d forgotten James hadn’t heard that explanation.

“Obviously he doesn’t have a particularly persuasive Chief Super,” James says, and his lips are twitching faintly at last. 

Robbie smiles. “Obviously.” He reaches out and pats James’s forearm. “Just another eight hours to get through today – an’ to give you something to look forward to, I’ll treat you to fish an’ chips this evening, all right?”

“My heart rejoices,” James says dryly, but he does smile.

* * *

Three hours later, they get their breakthrough. One of the boxes hasn’t been sealed properly and, while Robbie keeps watch, James is able to lift the flap and verify the contents. “Kendrick’ll be happy,” he murmurs, and digs for his phone. 

Five seconds later, the photo’s taken and emailed. Now, they wait.

It’s close to another two hours before anything happens. And then, suddenly, officers in uniform burst into the building. Some are armed, and one of them has a loudspeaker and is calling out instructions: everyone step back from any boxes or equipment, stand with their hands on their heads, and don’t move. The scene looks chaotic, but is perfectly ordered and under control, Robbie knows from his own experience with this type of operation: the uniformed officers are fanning out, taking the workers furthest away into custody first, while senior plainclothes officers are heading straight for those in charge, as well as any kind of paperwork.

He and James are rounded up along with everyone else, cuffed and put into a police van. That’s to be expected – apart from anything else, the uniforms won’t know who they are. That’ll all get sorted out down the station.

* * *

“Robert Lowe and James Harrison?” 

Robbie nods at the sergeant in charge of booking in all the arrestees. Most, he expects, will be questioned and then released. He and James will be taken to meet Kendrick’s team, presumably–

“It’s your lucky day,” the sergeant says with heavy irony. “There are outstanding warrants for your arrest. Vehicle theft, apparently, in Oxford. You two are gonna spend some time as guests of Her Majesty.” 

Robbie sees James’s eyes widen impossibly, and he knows he must be reacting in the same way. But he’s not concerned. It’ll get sorted. Later, once everyone from the warehouse has been processed, he’ll ask to see Kendrick.

He and James have to empty out their pockets – and there go their phones, with the direct link to Kendrick, and also his painkillers; his back’s aching again, of course. And then they’re escorted to the custody suite, still handcuffed.

The cell they’re taken to is at the end of a long row. The custody sergeant opens the door and stands back, and it’s at that point that Robbie realises that of course they’ll be in separate cells – until the sergeant gestures to both of them to enter, and follows them. “Turn around,” he instructs them, and at last the cuffs are removed. Robbie massages his aching wrists – he’d known those handcuffs weren’t the most comfortable device in the world, but, Christ, he hopes he never has to have them on him again. 

The sergeant speaks again, in a different tone. “Inspector Kendrick sends his apologies for this, sirs. He asks if you wouldn’t mind waiting here for a couple of hours until he and DS Carver have had time to interview the key suspects and retrieve evidence. If the suspects know we had undercover officers on site, it could make things difficult. We’ll make you as comfortable as we can in the meantime.”

“I take it we can at least get a sandwich and some coffee?” James’s tone is dry as dust. 

“Of course, sir. Ten minutes at most.”

The sergeant exits, and seconds later they hear the sound of the lock being slammed into place.

* * *

“Of all the places I ever imagined being alone with you, sir, a cell in a custody suite wasn’t one of them.”

James is sitting on the end of the bed, chewing on the remains of the sandwiches they’d been brought fifteen minutes ago. Robbie’s lying on the bed, resting his back; he’s tempted to ask James to massage the really painful bits, but the thought of doing it here doesn’t quite feel right.

“Oi.” Robbie chucks one of the empty plastic sandwich packets in James’s direction. “First, why were you imagining being alone with me in the first place? An’ second, what’s with the sir?”

“It’s the effect being with you in a police environment has on me, sir,” James retorts, eyes alight with mirth. “As for imagining being alone with you...” He clasps a hand over his heart. “Don’t you know that thoughts of you fill my every waking hour?”

“Daft sod.” But he’s feeling a lot better suddenly. He pulls himself up into a sitting position, facing James. “D’you realise this is the first chance we’ve had to have a proper chat in weeks? What with you not returning my phone calls an’ all...”

James winces – faint, but it’s there. “Sorry. I...” He hesitates, then says, “I don’t really have an excuse, other than that, while I did want to see you, I didn’t want to intrude.”

“Intrude?” Robbie gives him an exasperated glare. “Since when have I ever led you to believe you might be intruding?”

“You didn’t. I... Let’s just say I was misguided and leave it at that?” 

The bloke’s looking uncomfortable, so Robbie decides to do as he asks. “All right, then. Just as long as you don’t do it again, y’hear?”

“I promise.” And that’s a genuine smile. “So, since, as you say, it’s the first chance we’ve had, what’s been occupying your time lately? You’re managing to keep yourself suitably entertained in the absence of the lovely Laura?”

“Oh, yeah.” Robbie summons his best effort at injecting enthusiasm into his voice. “There’s the allotment, of course. An’ I don’t know if I told you? I’m volunteering at a youth centre a couple of afternoons a week.”

“Oh?” James swings around and sits cross-legged, facing Robbie. “Doing what?”

“Coaching, mostly. Cricket, rugby. Some indoor games.”

“Mmm.” James’s head is tilted to one side, and he’s studying Robbie in a way that’s disconcerting. “What else?”

He hesitates; there’s no way he’ll admit to resorting to watching daytime telly. James smiles. “You’re bored out of your mind, aren’t you?”

Robbie pulls a face, and knows James will have read the truth from that. “Come on, what about you, then? How’s that course of yours going?”

James picks at a piece of fluff on his jeans. “I decided I didn’t need it.”

Robbie snorts. “After all that guff about needing to prepare for your Masters? Feeling out of touch with academic work?” He gets a shrug in response. “Doesn’t sound like you’re full of enthusiasm either,” Robbie points out.

There’s a pause before James says, tone rueful, “No.” He shifts position again, sitting with his back to the wall. “And, just to make your day, I’ll give you the opportunity to say I told you so. I’ve been starting to think I miss police work.”

That’s probably the best thing he’s heard in weeks. It’s not that he wants James to be a copper above all else – not at all. He wants James to be happy and fulfilled, and it’s perfectly clear – has been since the lad resigned – that he isn’t. “Why don’t you go back? You know Innocent’d have you like a shot.”

James meets his gaze again, and there’s challenge in his eyes. “I will if you will.”

“Me?” Robbie stares at him. “I’m retired, man!”

“And if you think that’d stop her finding a way to get you back, you underestimate Jean Innocent,” James points out. “She didn’t want you to retire in the first place.”

That’s true. And if there were a possibility of getting them both back, he had a strong suspicion that Jean Innocent would move heaven and earth – or, more likely, the Chief Constable – to make it happen.

“All right,” he says, and is surprised by how right that decision feels. “On one condition.”

“What?” James sounds faintly wary now.

“You put in for OSPRE and promotion. I mean it,” he adds as he sees the instant rejection in James’s expression. “I can’t be around for ever. At best, a couple of years, probably, an’ I don’t want to see you still a sergeant when I do go.”

James sighs. “As long as we work together until then.”

Robbie smiles, then leans towards James with his hand extended. “Deal?”

“Deal,” James says, gripping his hand. 

As he leans back again after the handshake, pain ripples through his lower back and he grunts, reaching back to rub the area. James frowns and instantly moves closer to him, hand reaching out to grip his shoulder. “Robbie? Why didn’t you say you were in pain again?”

“Didn’t see the point in complaining.” He winces again; whatever he did when he leaned forward, the pain’s worsened.

“Lie down on your front.” James isn’t going to take no for an answer, and Robbie’s in too much pain now to care about being seen. He stretches out gingerly, resting his head on his arms. 

And then there’s the anticipation of blessed relief of James kneeling over him, his thighs brushing against Robbie’s in this tighter space as he gets into position – and then his hands on Robbie’s lower back. “Sorry, but I think I’m going to have to...” He sounds a bit embarrassed, and then James’s arse comes to rest on Robbie’s upper thighs.

“ ‘S all right.” Anything’s all right as long as James keeps doing what he’s doing.

“Any better?” James asks after a few minutes’ intense kneading.

He moves slightly to test his lower spine. There’s still a bit of discomfort, but it’s much better than it was. “Aye. You really are bloody good at this, man. What do I have to do to get you to come over after I’ve been up the allotment?”

James carries on working on Robbie’s back, now with the wider, sweeping movements that feel so good. “You could start by taking me to the allotment with you. What would you do if your muscles locked while you were digging on your own?”

Robbie snorted. “Phone you. What else?”

James leans forward to massage Robbie’s shoulders, and his backside and hips slide higher, over Robbie’s arse. It doesn’t feel as awkward as it should, he thinks – but then they’ve had to be fairly physical with each other over the years, rescuing each other from potentially dangerous situations or offering a helping hand if one of them was injured.

It’s a disappointment when James says, a few minutes later, “All right, enough,” and sits up, swinging himself off Robbie. It’s not fair on James, of course, but Robbie could lie here and let the lad do that all day.

James jogs his shoulder. “Come on, lazybones. They could be here to let us out any minute.”

He allows himself a long-suffering sigh. “Suppose so.” He accepts the hand James offers, and moments later they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder on the cell’s bed.

He turns his head so that he’s looking at James; it’s surprising that, even after the past few days of hard physical labour and poor-quality sleep on cheap beds, the bloke looks younger and more relaxed than in their last weeks on the job. His hair’s a bit longer, and completely rumpled, and it suits him. 

“What?” James says, amusement in his tone.

Robbie shrugs. “You look good, man. Happy.”

“I am, I suppose.” James hesitates, then adds, “It’s good to spend some time with you again. I’ve... missed you.”

He nods, giving James a wry smile. “Missed you, too.” Without any conscious thought, he reaches out and covers James’s hand with his. “Don’t go disappearing on me again, all right?”

James just looks back at him, and there’s something in his expression, Robbie’s not sure what, but he can’t take his eyes off the lad. Maybe it wasn’t just him wanting to stay in contact; maybe James wasn’t just humouring him after all. 

He rubs James’s hand lightly with his thumb. James turns his hand over and they’re clasping palm to palm, still gazing at each other. And this just feels... right. 

“If I...” James begins, then hesitates. “If I’m wrong, forgive me.” And he leans closer to Robbie, and covers Robbie’s lips with his own in a warm, lingering kiss.

 _Christ_. No, he’s not wrong, and why did neither of them think of doing this before? Robbie shifts and, as James starts to pull back, wraps an arm around his bonny, beautiful lad and holds him steady so that he can show the bloke just how _not_ wrong he is.

And he’s just getting into his stride when a key loudly turns in the lock.

* * *

It’s almost four hours later when they’re finally able to get away from the nick, hours that have been filled with making statements, providing descriptions, identifying the managers of the warehouse and listing anything else they thought Kershaw and his team should look into. They might be asked to come back for the trial, and CPS will be in contact, but they’re free to return to Oxford. 

“And we’re retired, remember,” Robbie points out as they leave. “Next time you need to borrow some officers, I’m sure Chief Superintendent Innocent could recommend someone suitable.”

“Mmm... there’s always DI Peterson and DC Hooper. I’m sure you’d find them an interesting combination,” James suggests, and Robbie smothers a laugh. 

“Into the car with you,” he mutters, elbowing James and trying to avoid looking at him; the lad’ll have him in stitches. 

Finally, finally, they’re on the road. A quick stop at the boarding-house to collect their things and return the keys, and they’re following local roads to the A419. James, who’s driving, pulls into a petrol station without warning. “Need to fill up,” he explains unnecessarily. “But, also, I needed to do this–” He surges towards Robbie, hooks a hand around his neck, and kisses him thoroughly. 

“No argument from me,” Robbie says when they come up for air. “But it’d be more comfortable at home, eh? Sooner we’re on the road, sooner we can snuggle on me couch.”

James’s lips curve into a smile that sets Robbie’s heart racing. “Think I can speed and claim we’re on police business if we’re stopped?” Robbie grins, but shakes his head. James pouts. “Didn’t think so.” 

“Only an hour an’ a half,” Robbie points out. “An’ it’s late enough that we can put off reporting to Innocent until tomorrow.”

“And then we surprise her by asking for our jobs back?” 

“Sounds about right. Not sure she’ll be that surprised, though.” 

James gives him a slow, wicked grin. “Maybe I should kiss you in front of her – or do you think that won’t surprise her either?”

Knowing Innocent, it probably wouldn’t. Though, of course, she did say all those years ago that he and James would be completely unconvincing as a couple – perhaps it’s time to make her eat her words. 

He can’t stop smiling all the way home.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Paperscribe's prompt for her second fic was: _An unusual place for a first kiss._


End file.
